


numbers game

by jessewrites



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (sort of?), Anorexia, Eating Disorders, Gen, Stiles-centric, please don't read this if you think you might be triggered, vent fic ?? ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 10:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6113228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessewrites/pseuds/jessewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His life has become a numbers game. This many pounds, that many calories, how many days until somebody notices?<br/>He can’t stop thinking about the numbers, even when he’s daydreaming about something (anything) else.<br/>(he hates the numbers almost as much as he loves them)<br/>----<br/>He doesn’t even like math.<br/>In fact, he hates math.</p><p>(or: stiles kindamaybesortof has an eating disorder.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	numbers game

**Author's Note:**

> hey. yeah. so this is un-beta'd and i kinda just wrote this as a vent-ish fic??
> 
> the numbers will be wrong, sometimes, because i'm 5'4 and was using some of my experiences, but stiles is taller (not like anyone cares but? details)
> 
> the beginning half or so of this is from my experiences, but i didn't want to leave it there so i kept going

(one hundred thirty-two point five)

It’s not a problem. Until it is.

Stiles is fourteen years old when he decides he needs to lose weight. He knows he’s not fat or anything, but he’s not athletic or attractive or skinny.

He’d like to be the skinny one, for once.

And it’s not like he’s starving himself or anything. He eats. Sometimes he even eats  _ too much, _ that’s how much he’s not starving himself. 

He knows what eating disorders are. He’s been through health class. But he’s not anorexic, and he doesn’t throw up, so it’s not that bad.. 

(it’s not a problem because thirteen year old boys don’t have eating disorders.)

\----

(one hundred twenty-four point four)

It’s a new school year, which means gym class. Which means getting weighed and tested and measured up to fitness standards in front of everyone.

He’s average, in weight and height and cardiorespiratory endurance. He knows he’s not though. not really. Not when that kid weighs  _ this little  _ or he has  _ this percent body fat.  _ He’s average, but he can still pinch the fat on his hips and thighs and stomach and he hates it.

He knows it’s not a great mindset, but it’s not like he has an eating disorder.

\----

(one hundred twenty point zero)

He starts skipping lunch at school. Not all the time. Not even once a week. 

But now that he knows it’s an option, he beats himself up a little bit every time he chooses a slice of pizza over a salad or an empty table space.

He knows it’s kind of a bad mindset, maybe, but it's not like he has an eating disorder.

\----

(one hundred eighteen point six)

He realizes, for the first time, that he’s lost weight. Real weight, not just daily changes.

It feels good, but he can’t help imagining losing more. And by association, weighing less.

He doesn’t really have a problem.

Does he?

\----

(one hundred fifteen point two)

It’s been three months since the beginning of school, and he’s definitely lost weight.

He skips lunch more now. Snacks, too, sometimes.

But skipping snacks doesn’t really count as skipping anything.

He still doesn’t have a problem. Not really. It’s not like he has an eating disorder. Probably.

 

\----

(one hundred twelve point six)

He might have a problem, but it’s not that bad.

He started new meds recently, he reminds his dad. ADHD medications can have weight loss as a side effect.

He’s not hungry, he tells Scott. He had a big breakfast.

What do you mean, it’s three in the afternoon?

\----

(one hundred eleven point eight)

He’s almost under a hundred ten. He would like to be under a hundred ten.

(he would like to be a hundred four. ninety eight. eighty nine.)

He would like to be anything  _ less.  _

\----

(one hundred nine point eight)

He’s under a hundred ten, but now he wants to be under a hundred five.

But he’s under a hundred ten, which means he’s doing good. 

\----

(one hundred eight point four)

He can probably relax a little bit now.  

He eats lunch. All week, even. And he doesn’t even feel that bad about it.

He’s still counting calories, though. It’s bad; he knows it; he doesn’t really care.

\----

(one hundred twelve point four)

He messed up. It’s not real weight, he knows it, just food in his digestive tract and water retention, but it nearly sends him into a panic when he sees the number on the scale. Not a real panic, he’s not that bad, but his breath catches for a moment in his throat.

This is good for him, probably. 

Maybe.

He’s not really sure, at this point.

\----

(one hundred fourteen point five)

He’s eating lunch more. It’s been two weeks now, and he’s eaten lunch every day.

It’s okay. He’s okay.

\----

(one hundred fifteen point two)

Can it actually be “recovery” if he never really had a problem?

\----

(one hundred fifteen point two)

Maintenance is good. It’s good to eat more. It’s good to eat.

It’s good. It’s good. It’s good.

\----

(one hundred twelve point four)

He didn’t eat lunch yesterday. And breakfast was only a piece of toast and half an egg. He knows he didn’t really lose three pounds overnight, that it’s just water weight, food weight, but that doesn’t stop his excited half-gasp.

\----

(one hundred ten point two)

He’s doing good lately. Whatever that means.

It feels good, the not-eating. But it’s not really not-eating. He still eats breakfast of some kind, usually, and dinner.

In any case, he likes it. He likes being in control, and he likes routine. He’s even learning to like the running-on-empty shakiness, the lightheaded feeling of standing up too fast.

He thinks that should scare him. It kind of scares him that it doesn’t.

\----

(one hundred nine point four)

He’s almost back to making progress. 

He smiles as he politely declines a snack from Scott’s mom as they do English homework after school.

\----

(one hundred eight point zero)

He knows it’s bad now, but at this point, he can’t stop,

He’s not underweight (yet), so it’s not really that bad, he tells himself. It’s not like he has an eating disorder. 

(Not really, anyway.)

\----

(one hundred seven point six)

He’s “underweight” now. By adult standards. So not really. He starts seeing where this could end, whatever  _ this  _ is.

He has visions of celebrating his summer in residential treatment while everyone else eats ice cream and goes swimming. Of weighing next to nothing and not being satisfied. Of being “really” sick.

It terrifies him, that he wants to be sick.

He (maybe) wouldn’t even need residential anyway. Just therapy, probably.

\----

(one hundred six point eight)

His life has become a numbers game. This many pounds, that many calories, how many days until somebody notices?

He can’t stop thinking about the numbers, even when he’s daydreaming about something (anything) else.

He dreams of getting a first real girlfriend, or maybe a boyfriend.

(he dreams of one hundred five)

He dreams of being able to drive, of being finally independant.

(he dreams of one hundred zero)

He dreams of feeling okay again. Or even just less miserable.

(he dreams of ninety four)

He dreams of…. ???

(he dreams of eighty nine)

(he hates the numbers almost as much as he loves them)

\----

(one hundred five point two)

He doesn’t even like math.

In fact, he hates math.

\----

(one hundred six point two)

He scared himself into thinking he was getting a real problem, so he ate three whole meals yesterday. He doesn’t know how he could’ve been so stupid.

It’s not real weight, he tells himself. It’ll go back down soon enough.

\----

(one hundred five point five)

It’s never soon enough.

\----

(one hundred five point two)

He does research, on his phone in the middle of the night. When he’s sure no one else will see.

What he finds is this:

At one hundred four point eight, he could maybe be diagnosed with anorexia. Technically.

At ninety nine point five, he will have “moderate” anorexia, according to some chart he found.

At ninety four, he will be “underweight” officially, because of growth percentiles and stuff.

At eight seven point eight, it’ll be “extreme”.

He’s getting ahead of himself, though.

At one hundred four point eight, he could maybe be diagnosed with anorexia. Technically.

\----

(one hundred four point five)

He made it. He thought he’d never get below a hundred five.

A hundred four. 104. One-oh-four.

It’s a beautiful number, really.

\----

(one hundred three point eight)

He’s a little bit scared now. Not really, though. He’s not gonna get  _ that bad.  _

He might have a problem. For real.

Oops.

\----

(one hundred four point zero)

He hates it. He needs to stop eating so much.

He starts doing more research, as a little side project.

\----

(one hundred four point zero)

It takes him less than a day. Granted, he spends hours scouring the internet, taking too many self-tests, taking some of them twice, looking up definitions and criteria and symptoms.

He can’t say anything for sure, but uh. He might have an eating disorder?

Not Otherwise Specified. That’s not what it’s called now, from what he’s read, but he likes that name better.

He’s not really anorexic, because he’s not underweight. (yet?)

Not Otherwise Specified, because he’s not bad enough to have a real eating disorder. 

That means he’s okay.

Right?

\----

(one hundred three point two)

He’s really surprised no one has noticed yet.

Maybe he should tell someone.

Maybe he shouldn’t.

He tells himself he’ll tell someone at ninety nine.

Then it’ll feel real.

\----

(one hundred two point five)

He got there. He keeps thinking he should tell someone.

Maybe Scott? 

Maybe not Scott.

He’s starting to get scared now, a little.

What if he does get  _ that bad? _

He’s not going to, though.

He’s only lost thirty pounds.

Right?

Right?

\----

(one hundred two point five)

He hasn’t lost anything in the past four days.

\----

(one hundred two point zero)

It’s so close.

\----

(one hundred one point six)

He’s so close. Just watch, though. Count on him to mess it all up now.

He kind of  _ wants  _ someone to notice at this point.

\----

(one hundred one point four)

Honestly, though.

How has nobody noticed yet?

\----

(one hundred one point one)

\----

(one hundred point six)

\----

(one hundred point four)

\----

(one hundred point zero)

He thought it would feel better than this.

Now he just wants ninety nine.

He knew it would be like this, never enough, never  _ too little,  _  but he thought, for some reason, that he’d be different.

\----

(one hundred point zero)

He wants to tell someone?

\----

(ninety nine point five)

\----

(ninety eight point two)

He needs to tell someone.

\----

(ninety eight point zero)

Not his dad. 

Maybe Scott?

\----

(ninety eight point zero)

Scott texts him and asks if he wants to hang out this weekend.

He agrees, making a note to actually ask his dad later.

_ ok cool,  _ Scott replies.  _ my mom said we can get pizza _

He takes a slow breath. Pizza. Okay. He can do this, probably. (and soda and chips and breadsticks and)

_ awesome!! :) _

\----

(ninety seven point six)

He needs to tell Scott. 

He’s going to tell Scott and he’s going to eat pizza, and he’s going to get better, and

\----

(ninety seven point five)

On Friday night, he just rides the bus home with Scott and promises his dad they’ll do their homework together.

It’s the weekend. He’s got two more days.

They play video games, and it’s almost okay. He’s almost okay.

The pizza will be here soon, Scott says, and he hears himself say “okay”.

\----

(ninety seven point five)

The pizza is greasy in a good way and the cheese is melting and it’s his favorite (sausage and mushrooms), but he can’t.

He stares at the slice on his plate, and he chooses instead to sip at the (thank God) diet Coke Melissa had gotten.

Are you okay?, Scott says. Aren’t you gonna eat?

I’m fine, he says. I’m

\----

(ninety seven point five)

He starts crying. Not a lot, but enough that Scott notices.

Hey, are you okay? and Scott’s leaning over him. Is this a panic attack or something, what

The pizza, he says, too quiet. I can’t.

You can’t what? (Scott)

I can’t. (Himself)

Stiles, what’s going on? Are you okay? (Scott)

Hearing his name kind of shocks him out of it, and he’s angry.

At himself, for being like this. At God (?), for making him like this.

At Scott, a little bit, for not noticing.

But mostly at himself.

\----

(ninety seven point five)

Scott? (Himself)

Yeah? (Scott)

\----

(it doesnt matter)

“I think I…” Stiles pauses, and this is the first time it’s felt really real.

\----

(it doesn’t matterit doesn’t matter)

“I need help, Scott.”

\----

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading this? comments/kudos are appreciated if you want idk lol


End file.
